


Postmodern Jukebox

by TC_Stark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But Meg might make him consider worshipping at her feet, Castiel and Dean are police partners, Castiel is Not a Virgin, Castiel is a Catholic Man, Castiel is infatuated with Meg, Current BEnny Lafitte and Dean Winchester, Denny - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Human AU, Jazz era, M/M, Meg seduces Castiel, Megstiel - Freeform, Past Castiel/Dean Winchester, Undisclosed time era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6072291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TC_Stark/pseuds/TC_Stark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by my love for Postmodern Jukebox, Castiel is infatuated with the singer at the local jazz bar. Though a year has gone by of Meg not noticing him, she suddenly takes an interest in her admirer. As a church going man, he is warned by everyone to not go down the path of hedonism and dark desires. But, Meg is just the woman to free him from his internal restraints and he is just the man to make her believe in sincerity and affection again.</p>
<p>There will be mentioned Destiel, but Dean is with Benny in this story. It's a human AU, with me referring though to Castiel as an angel and Meg as a demon. There is no disclosed year this takes place in, but I want it to have a jazzy, film noir feel to it. Please let me know if I succeed or fail. Thank you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: The Interaction

Glasses clinked against one another. The room was full of smoke from patrons smoking their filtered cigarettes. Mild chatter danced amongst the tables, at a small jazz club in New York City. It was a Saturday night and there was a line of people waiting to get in, probably having an hour maximum before they were able to enjoy the festivities.

The true star of the night, or what everyone went to the club for; were the variety of lovely women who stood atop stage and entertained the crowd of men. Whether they were married or not, they would frequent the club and sit for hours, just listening to the melodic voices of one femme fatale after another. They all knew that the males were wrapped around their fingers, slaves to the sultry allure each had.

Castiel was no stranger to the club. But, it wasn't just one female he would go for. Sure, they were all lovely. All talented. One day, a few of them could even be movie stars. In the meantime, though; they were just stars to any Tom, Dick, and Harry who would toss them a cent or two. Maybe even a drink here and there; but mostly the men _rewarded_ these hard working women with lustful stars and crude comments.

Unlike the whistlers and men whooping for every woman on stage, Castiel sat in his corner booth with a half drunk martini and a cigarette pressed in between his fingers. Quietly, his blue eyes focused on the stage and ignored those around him, as his favorite singer finally took her rightful place to serenade them all, though they were certainly not worthy.

No woman drew him in the way Meg did. Despite all the sequin and pouty lips, none of the others existed when _she_ took the stage. A demon in disguise, Castiel knew that this was the type of woman who could break any man's heart and they should say _thank you,_ but he didn't care. All it had taken was one look his way, and since the first time he had been tranced by her.

Long black hair fell in curls past her bare shoulders; dark eyeshadow focused under her brows, and red lipstick painted her mouth in such a way that Castiel knew if he kissed them, he would be going to hell. It would have been a fun ride though, even if he thought of himself as a God fearing man. He'd gladly skip Church on Sundays, if it meant spending even a minute with her. No one else had her look and no one had the voice she did.

"You like her, huh?" The owner of the club sat next to Castiel, urging to hear confirmation of his hunch.

It should have been a true testament of how much Castiel liked Meg that he dealt with Crowley's constant pestering. Every time the man stepped foot into the place, the King of Hell would immediately saunter up and try some rouse to get the admirer to pay extra money. To try to whore out his girls against the will.

"Must I continue telling you no every time?" Castiel rolled his eyes, while taking a pull of his cigarette before ashing it out.

Adjusting his suit, Crowley scooted in closer to the other man, much to his chagrin, "Listen, Castiel, you come in every time. Order the same thing. Wait till Meg is on stage. Watch her and then leave. Why just get a taste, when you could have her as a whole meal?"

"She isn't an object to be passed around by your command." Castiel retorted, his blue eyes glaring over to the shorter man. Meg was almost through her first song and Crowley was ruining that for him.

"She's whatever I want her to be."

It was at that accusation that Castiel's hand shot out and grabbed onto Crowley's collar, pulling him down as the trenchcoat wearing man leaned in to growl, "You know I work for the police. I wouldn't suggest mentioning human trafficking to me, if I were you."

"Hands off, mate," Crowley pushed away, scoffing, "I'm just trying to pull the stick out of your ass. Give you what you want. I am only here to please after all."

Castiel's silence was enough of a reason for Crowley to leave, grumbling under his breath something about the man _being in a state of constant constipation._ He tried not to let it bother him. Meg was still singing and he wanted to enjoy every second. Even if he was the kind of man she would never look at twice, he somehow hoped she knew he couldn't ever pull his eyes off of her. Most importantly, he hoped she knew he didn't stare at her the way the other men did.

It was never long enough - Meg's time on stage. As soon as she started, it always seemed like it was time for her to leave. Castiel wish he could reach out, just beg her to stay. Just keep singing. Make love to his ears - sooth his eyes. Every joint in his body eased and his heart calmed, only when he heard the beautiful lyrics that emerged from her lips.

As the band played the intermission, Castiel took a drink from his martini. It had been neglected by both Meg's beauty and Crowley's interruption. It was getting late and he wanted to finish his drink so to get home. Not that he had anyone to get home to, but he had always been a stickler for scheduling. Besides, why else would he have reason to stay? Crowds had never been appealing to him.

"Did you get slipped water or do you normally gulp down your martini?"

That voice. So sharp. Such snap to it. With the undertones of playful deviation to it. Castiel had been looking off to the side, while gulping down his drink, when a presence had invaded his bubble. Too afraid to see who it was, he stayed still. As if willing the person to go away. Willing the dream to not come to fruition and for it to be an embarrassment for both of them.

Finally turning his head, Castiel gulped to see the woman of his desires standing before him. Lord, why did he tease him so? Was Crowley up to this? Was it a joke? Did he find it funny to send a socially awkward police officer the person who he had been coming for almost a year to see sing?

Up close, he could admit her exotic beauty even better. Could see the way her dress clung to her body. Smell how she smelled of cinnamon and darkness. Her cheekbones were sharp and her lips were curled in a devious smirk that made Castiel feel so small. Why did she need to go to him of all men? Weren't there others to match her better than he? Why did she need to tease him?

"Come on, let's dance." Meg finally proposed, lazily holding her hand out.

Feeling a knot in the pit of his stomach, all Castile could muster out was a simple croak, "I...don't know how to dance."

Tilting her head so casually, she purred, "That's okay - you'll learn."

Not taking no for an answer, Meg reached down to brush her hand down Castiel's arm before settling upon his hand and curling her fingers around his to pull him up, from his seat. The world was spinning for him, feeling out of his body as the woman who had hadn't ever said two words to pulled him to the dance floor. Among everyone; _he_ was there, with her. Any other man, and she picked him to show her attention to.

Positioning his arm around her waist, Meg placed her hand on his shoulder while never letting go of his other hand and began swaying to the music. Castiel continued to look around, trying to make sure that this wasn't a cruel joke. Any minute now, someone would come out and laugh that this exotic creature was even this close to him. That it was all a prank on him; he didn't doubt it.

"Did Crowley put you up to this?" Castiel finally asked. He could hardly believe he was gazing down at her beauty, but the moment was almost tainted by the belief that it was all a lie.

Snorting, Meg answered, "That sack of sorrowful excuses? He doesn't tell me what to do," Leaning closer with the melody, she added, "I'm here, because I've seen come in every weekend for almost a year. Do you just like the martinis and cigarettes that much or do I have an admirer?"

"I...apologize if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Quite opposite. I'm flattered," Meg smiled ruefully, placing her free hand against his chest, "You're the only one who comes and just looks. My rump is usually sore at the end of the night. Men can get so handsy."

Castiel frowned, suddenly allowing himself to enjoy the feel of her so close to him. She was in his arms. In _his_ arms. His eyes needed to look down to make sure he was actually holding onto her back, swaying simply along with her. Gulping, he responded, "I find that disrespectful. I just...like hearing you sing. You have a lovely voice."

"And who can I thank for that lovely compliment?"

"Castiel. My name is Castiel."

Smiling a sultry smile, she cooed up at him, "I'm Meg. Are you married, Castiel?"

"I wouldn't be here if I was."

"You would be surprised how many men here are," Winking, Meg purred, "Wedding rings do come off."

Memorizing every line of her face, Castiel pointed out, "That maybe true, but I am not that type of man. Are you a married woman?"

It was at that question that Meg chuckled so deeply, her voice dark and full of tainted beauty that he wished his soul to be painted with. Running her hand down his blue tie, the singer leaned up and whispered in his ear, "Do I look like the marrying type? Last man who said yes, he couldn't much handle what he got."

The feel of her lips against his ear made him shudder, but it was the tone of her words that crawled its way into his very being and made Castiel involuntarily groan. Meg smirked at this reaction, pressing herself harder against his body. Somehow, it pleased her to know that this poor uptight man could come undone so simply by her very being. If only he knew the person she truly was underneath it all.

Closing his eyes, Castiel danced with Meg and responded back into her ear, "I would take the time out...to know who you really are."

"You might not like what you see, Clarence," She sighed, as the song came to an end, "I'll see you next weekend, tree-topper."

Though confused by the nicknames, Castiel didn't say a word as Meg left with a simple kiss on the cheek. She left him dumbstruck and in the middle of the dance floor; wondering what he did to deserve the attention from her. Was this some cruel joke or had she actually discovered that she gone mad? Whatever the reason, he was even more attracted to her and wanted to see what person was lying underneath even more so now.

Whoever the woman was, Castiel knew that she would be the death of him. And despite that, he knew he wanted it. Knew he wanted to feel the darkness inside of him. She was a mystery that kept him up at night. A perplexion that plagued his mind at all hours of the day and now he burned even more with the curiosity: who was Meg and why would his life never be the same because of her?

"You're a church going man, aren't ya, mate?" Crowley approached Castiel, a drink in his hand.

Numbly nodding, Castiel mumbled, "I am."

"Then you best stay far, far away from that vixen. She's trouble."

Eyes fixated ahead, Castiel could only think of one thing, "Good."


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eek! It's been a long time since I've updated! Short chapter - please enjoy! Tell me also those who have been keeping up witht he latest episodes of the show :)

Castiel showered every morning before work. It had been four days, four showers, and the detective could still smell Meg on his skin. Very aware of how creepy that all sounded, he could only concentrate on the warm aroma of cinnamon on his being - remembering what it was like to have her so close.

 

“You there, Cas?”

 

Right. Work. Castiel looked up from his desk at the police station, seeing his partner Dean extending a cup of coffee to him. Clearing his throat, he reached up and received the caffeinated drink, mumbling a thank you before taking a sip probably before he should have. Someone must have just brewed a pot, as he tried desperately to cover up the burning liquid that coated his throat.

 

Not realizing this, Dean sat on the edge of the desk and spread his legs out casually, “You still going to that jazz club? You usually have that look on your face whenever you go there. Though, doesn’t usually last this long. You get lucky?” He asked with a Cheshire grin and a waggle of his brows.

 

“Don’t be vulgar,” Castiel sighed, his voice raspier than usual due to the hot coffee, “I thought we didn’t talk about personal relationships. You said it made things easier.”

 

Looking down at his own coffee, Dean sighed, “Yea...I was only saying that to be a dick. I don’t mean it. You can tell me anything, Cas.”

 

The first time Dean had told him that, Castiel had confessed his feelings for his partner. That had been three years ago and after two years of whatever the two had, it had clearly not been a successful experiment and was broken off by the slightly older male. Considering the Winchester had never been in a long lasting relationship with anyone, whether they be man or woman; he had been slightly sour over it and working together had been hard for a while.

 

From what Castiel had gathered, Dean had begun dating a good friend of his. Benny Lafitte had been invited over the house many times and though they disguised their feelings as  _ brotherly love,  _ even then Cas had known that it could be more. The burly Louisianan also happened to be their chief and it wasn’t uncommon for the Winchester to be called into the boss’s office, with the door shut behind.

 

“Cas?” Dean called out, seeing Castiel spacing out once again.

 

Shaking his head, Castiel shifted his gaze back up to his ex-lover, “She said hi to me...we danced.”

 

“Huh,” Dean expressed, pausing for a moment to think, before taking a seat next to Castiel, “This the same girl you were all gaga for when you took me to that jazz club?”

 

Castiel nodded deftly, as then a shadow casted down onto both of them as Benny stood in front of the two police officers. A cup of coffee was in his hand and he clearly had been hard at work - his sleeves rolled up and his beard fuller than usual. Some days at the precinct were harder than others and this week clearly had worn down on the man. 

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Benny offered an apologetic grimace, sighing tiredly while turning to Dean, “Can I see ya in my office, Dean?”

 

Dean nodded, while patting Castiel reassuringly on the shoulder, “We’ll talk about this later. Go get ‘em tiger.”

 

“Now, wait - I’m suddenly interested in what you two were talking about.” Benny grinned, suddenly feeling uplifted by the possibility of gossip.

 

“I forgot, I left my car running.” Castiel quickly lied, getting up and heading out of the general vicinity so to not divulge anything personal to Benny. It wasn’t that he didn’t actually like the man, but he had a hard time opening up to Dean when the two of them were dating. It was unlikely that he’d confess anything close to him to someone he wasn’t even sleeping with.

 

Stepping outside of the building, Castiel adjusted his blue tie before reaching into the inside pocket of his trenchcoat and taking out a packet of cigarettes. Dean had called it a nasty habit, but sometimes it felt like the only thing that kept him together. That prevented his mind from wandering, from him breaking out of persona he had worked so hard for - to hold him within the walls of righteousness and not to allow his soul to be tainted.

* * *

 

Perhaps that’s why he enjoyed seeing Meg sing. It felt like he was flirting between the line of good and evil. Castiel liked to think of himself as a kept together man. When he lay eyes upon the sultry woman, he felt himself coming undone. Not even his relationship with Dean, as hush-hush as that had been; had felt as naughty and forbidden as his affections for the dark haired woman did.

 

Castiel had been confused and perhaps, a bit worried; when Meg hadn’t sung that night at the club. It was only when he saw her chatting with a man at another table that he slowly worked together what was happening. Crowley liked to think of himself as having ownership of the woman he employed and that these girls were for sale; as if they were merchandise that had a price.

 

Feeling something akin to anger rise up in his throat, Castiel stood up from his usual seat - leaving his martini and cigarette on the table. One step forward and the vile king intercepted his journey, “No you don’t.”

 

“What you’re doing is illegal.” Castiel sneered, his eyes averting towards Meg.

 

“Doing what?” Crowley countered, cocking his head to look over his shoulder, before turning back to Castiel, “That? That’s her ex-boyfriend. Seems they’re having a little chat - might even get back together. Wouldn’t that be awful for you?”

 

Ignoring the troublemaker, Castiel directed his attention once again towards Meg. The way she spoke to the man was confusing. The vixen always had an aura of dangerous flirtation to her - did it mean a prior relationship between the two or was she chatting up the man, because Crowley had instructed her to.

 

As if she had been swimming inside his head, Meg noticed the seraph and immediately turned her attention away from the man she had been talking to. Not caring about the conversation the two had been in the middle of, the demoness took sultry strides to catch up to Castiel - their eyes remaining connected the whole time.

 

“You’re on time.” Meg’s sultry voice pointed out, as she closed the distance between them.

 

“You’re not.” Castiel responded, allowing himself to be guided to the dance floor by the demonic woman. It was as if he were being led to the fiery pits of hell, but nothing inside him could bring himself to protest.

 

Neither said a word, as both took the appropriate positions for the song currently playing. A slower, bluesy kind of tune rocked their bodies in a cohesive fashion. The cinnamon aroma of the singer wafted into his nostrils, warming him better than any cup of coffee he had ever had. Life stood still, even though they didn’t; no one around him existed when Meg was in his arms.

 

“You’re quieter than usual.” Meg observed, her eyelids hooded, as her chin tilted up to look at him.

 

Unfortunately it was not Meg who Castiel was looking at, instead his gaze fixed on the man she had previously been talking to, “Crowley said the gentleman you were talking to is your ex-boyfriend.”

 

Amused, Meg laughed. Her humorous take on the accusation confused Castiel. Was his lovely vixen amused at the jealousy in his voice or was she laughing that her love life was being spoken about behind her back. It wasn’t like she wasn’t a free woman - able to do whatever she pleased. Even realizing how childish he sounded made him feel dirty and doubt why he ever brought it up in the first place.

 

Swaying with him, Meg purred, “He is my ex. Christian is his name; he’s a frequent customer. He likes some redhead named Abaddon though - he was just asking me to put in a good word.”

 

“Is it common for an ex to ask another for love advice?”

 

“I wouldn’t call it love, tree topper. What about you? You look like the kind who is friendly with an ex,” Smiling her red painted lips, Meg purred, “You got any ex lovers?”

 

The questions stumped Castiel for a moment, holding her close to his body for a few more notes of the song. Opening up was not something he did often. He wanted to talk to the demoness, but not about himself. When he looked down at her, she was only waiting for an answer and he found that that was something he didn’t want to do that night.

 

“Meg, you’re wanted on stage.” Crowley suddenly came up to the two. On a normal basis, Castiel would have been irritated by the owner’s presence, but it was the one time he found himself thankful for his annoyance.

 

Meg pouted only slightly, as she leaned up to gently place her soft lips against his cheek. He was sure there was a red mark on his skin, but it mattered little to him. She winked and turned away, ignoring Crowley as she left the two in the middle of the dance floor. The other song was still playing, but Castiel didn’t care. He was thankful for the interruption, even if his body missed the feeling of hers pressed against it.

 

Watching her leave, Crowley sighed, “I told you, mate, you’re only getting yourself in trouble with Meg. She’s not the most trustworthy.”

 

“And you are?” Castiel snapped.

 

Crowley snorted, sticking his hands in his pockets and taking a small step forward, making sure every word was heard, “Don’t come in here acting high and mighty - you’re in a club full of degenerates. You pay good money to be around us. What would your superior officers think if they knew?”

  
Narrowing his eyes, Castiel leaned in, “Watch your tone, or I’ll make sure this place is closed down for good.” He warned, before brushing passed Crowley, not bothering to look back at the woman of his dreams on stage.


End file.
